System Came When the Doctor was Thirty

Simply put, Chen Song is a proud man.

Even though Chen Song had once explained to Lu Cheng that the reason he treated him well was because of his ”senior brother” relationship.

But Lu Cheng never really bought that.

What Chen Song said was definitely true; that senior brother of his probably had indeed helped him out.

But whether Chen Song’s attitude toward him was truly sincere, Lu Cheng had always had a pretty clear sense of that.

Chen Song really wanted to just follow the slope Lu Cheng was offering and bolt.

But Dai Linfang wouldn’t allow it: ”Look at you two, always trying to run, always trying to run, it’s not like I’m asking you to have a baby.”

”To speak plainly, Professor Chen, if you want to stand firm in the field, you need a point of ’proving your Dao.’”

”If you want to stand firm in your patients’ hearts, you also need something unique.”

”If your dad asks you for money to retire now, is he supposed to just go die?”

Lu Cheng cursed at the time: ”Shut the fuck up.”

Dai Linfang didn’t listen: ”No, you’ll actually feel lucky—lucky that you’ve grown up and have the ability!”

”Your identities are the same; only the age and the positions are different now, that’s all.”

”You’re not going to tally up how much pocket money your parents gave you when they were five years old, then return it to them down to the last cent.”

”A mentor–student relationship is set in that instant, but not limited to that instant; it’s all about slow, grinding work.”

”In the real world, fathers and sons falling out, unfilial sons, good‑for‑nothing fathers—there are plenty of those.”

”The fact that you two still take each other into account—count yourselves lucky…”

Maybe it was a particular sentence of Dai Linfang’s that finally snapped Chen Song’s mandibular bone and sent that perpetually raised chin of his dropping down.

”I do need some things in order to move forward; on that point, Dai Linfang isn’t wrong.” Chen Song felt like he was finally relaxed.

Damn, turns out that once you say this stuff out loud, it feels that good.

Is this what Lu Cheng called ’achieving mental clarity’ before?

Last year Chen Song went to the countryside, this year he was promoted to professor.

So what happens after becoming a professor? The long‑held wish fulfilled?

Then he gets lost? Loses his goals just like that?

Definitely not. Chen Song’s life plan was never just to be a professor and chief physician.

”Teacher Chen, you don’t have to make it sound so serious. Today we’re just here to talk professional stuff.” Lu Cheng kept trying to give Chen Song a slope to go down.

When Chen Song said all that, Lu Cheng was actually a little panicked inside.

Why?

Lu Cheng hadn’t really had many teachers. Right now at least he had Professor Chen Song hanging onto the title of ”teacher,” and Lu Cheng hadn’t officially announced that he’d graduated from under his tutelage.

With a ”teacher” around, Lu Cheng could still hope that if he ran into some problem, his teacher could step in and clean up the mess for him.

Once that ”teacher” label fell, what would he do?

Then everything would really only ever depend on himself.

Once your parents are old and have completely lost the ability to work, that family—no matter if it breaks your bones—you grit your teeth and shoulder it!!

This responsibility, whether you want to or not, you carry it.

Except in the case of truly ridiculous parents.

”We have to talk professional, and we also have to talk beyond professional.” At this point Chen Song had already decided to ”let himself go.”

It wasn’t easy, breaking through some psychological baseline; he hurried to seize the chance: ”Lu Cheng, I’m not here to pick fruit, I’m not here to take what’s ready‑made, and I’m certainly not asking you for charity.”

”I came with my own direction and want you to help decode it.”

”As long as you can help straighten out the line of thought, I’ll take people and do it myself. I’m not freeloading off you.”

”Even though it’s kind of embarrassing to say this out loud, but…”

”There’s one thing that’s a settled fact—you’ve already grown to the point where I have to consciously recognize that you’re an adult.”

A certain barrier in Lu Cheng’s heart was forcibly torn open by both Dai Linfang and Chen Song; it was another kind of ”plugging your ears while stealing the bell.”

Of course, this tearing open wasn’t painful; it just made Lu Cheng feel mildly uncomfortable, as a certain fantasy he’d held in his heart was completely shattered.

It wouldn’t affect his respect for Professor Chen Song, but it would sever the last fiber of his root that ”relied on his teacher.”

He had to grow on his own.

Right then, Dai Linfang refilled his cup with mountain tea water and said casually, ”Have you ever heard of something called the father complex?”

”It’s when a little girl, because she’s lacked fatherly love for a long time since childhood and yearns for it, becomes curious about it, even to the point of forming a habit.”

”They hope that in some stretch of their life journey, they can make up for that part.”

”Personally, I don’t think that’s a normal view of love, nor is it really free love.”

”You’re the same way.”

Lu Cheng was a bit annoyed, a bit pissed: ”You talk such a good game when you’re doing theory—so why is it that when it’s your own turn to go into practice, you’re a complete fucking mess?”

Hearing that, Dai Linfang got annoyed too: ”How am I a complete mess?”

”Isn’t it all because of you, you bastard?”

”I hadn’t had that kind of thought for a long, long time. Then you brought her to Ji City.”

”When I went to get close to her again, I realized—she!”

”You think everyone has your kind of good luck, getting a childhood sweetheart in a long‑term ’raising’ arrangement?”

Now it was Chen Song’s turn to comfort the two of them.

”Alright, alright, you’re both in your thirties. Why are you acting like a pair of teenagers?”

”Quiet down, don’t let people laugh at you.”

”So, where were we just now?”

”Right, the project direction. I’m bringing over a direction and asking you to help sort out the thinking—it’s not that kind of fruit‑picking.”

”Actually, personally, the direction I most want to work on, and have wanted to for the longest time, is andrology.”

When Chen Song finished, he saw two heads, four eyes staring straight at him, staring so hard it made his skin crawl: ”What are you looking at me for?”

”I mean proper andrology.”

”Physicians don’t treat themselves—don’t you get that?”

Lu Cheng and Dai Linfang kept staring at Chen Song, their expressions not showing much belief.

Chen Song waved his hand: ”Forget it, forget it. I can’t make it clear to you two. Whatever, today let’s just keep talking about Lu Cheng’s mature Liver Preservation Surgery concept…”

Dai Linfang said, ”Aren’t we supposed to eat first now?”

”Don’t interrupt everyone’s meal.”

At the neighboring table, an old man looked at this ”one big, two small” trio of blockheads, each with his own ”Heaven‑given flaw,” grounded to the point of being a total mess!

If you summed it up:

Dai Linfang was a clear‑eyed simp of the human world.

Chen Song was the stubborn fool who’d only lowered his head after his jawbone was snapped.

Lu Cheng was the ”second‑rate idiot” whose act of ”plugging his ears while stealing the bell” had been exposed!

...

Once they started eating, it became Xie Yuan’an’s stage.

Xie Yuan’an knew a lot of gossip; her thoughts were focused on this every day: ”That’s how it went.”

”The relationships among the four people in the lab downstairs are: that girl’s boyfriend ended up becoming her teacher’s younger uncle.”

”The girl couldn’t stomach it, so she left after graduation, and by some freak coincidence became her ex‑boyfriend’s second sister‑in‑law.”

Listening to Xie Yuan’an talk about this, even Chen Song was left dumbfounded, unable to figure out how exactly those relationships had formed.

Mu Nanshu thought for a moment and said, ”Couldn’t you dig up some gossip with actual nutritional value?”

Xie Yuan’an’s voice was pure: ”What’s the fun in listening to nutritious gossip?”

”Though there really is some!~”

”It was mid‑month last month—Professor Zhong Junyun’s teacher somehow heard about Lu Cheng.”

”After he’d dug up the details, he went to the department and scolded Professor Zhong for three whole mornings straight!”

”Every time, Professor Zhong personally escorted him back for his lunch break.”

”I heard people say that after his nap, the old man kept scolding again, to the point that the neighbors almost filed complaints.”

The rest of them all turned to look at Lu Cheng.

Lu Cheng said, ”And that gossip is supposed to be nutritious?”

Xie Yuan’an got excited: ”See, see, you guys just don’t get gossip.”

”My dad said there are a few key pieces of information in this.”

”First, Elder Professor Qi is over eighty and long since stopped worrying about clinical matters. Doing Tai Chi with his wife every day is his proper business. So who told him all this?”

”It definitely had to be that certain someone at Zhongnan Hospital, using the enemy’s methods.”

”Why would Zhongnan Hospital do that?”

”That’s the second point. Elder Professor Qi kicking up such a fuss made it perfectly legitimate for the hospital to openly acknowledge one fact.”

”You, Lu Cheng, and Professor Zhong Junyun don’t have much of a relationship—you’re clean!”

When it came to decoding gossip, Xie Yuan’an was an expert.

Once she finished, she proudly puffed out her chest—though when she saw Mu Nanshu next to her, she slightly drew back her shoulder blades…